Trap Boom
[Intro/Chorus: repeat 2X]
I make the trap - BOOM BOOM [4X]
I got soft, I got hard, I got pills, I got balls [2X]
[Project Pat]
Rocks under my balls, pistol in my drawers
A bird of blow on the table break quarters and halves off
For those who comin through this ain't Casino but I'm your dealer
Tony Montana, chill like Al Pacino in "Scarface" nigga
The jack boys talk a lot of noise but on the realla
Got killers posted up, e'ry Goldfinger's a trigger
Her-on is so intense, the syrup goin by the ounce
Put the money in my hands, cop your goods, and then you bounce
[Verse Two]
See I ain't the nigga that was up at five o'clock to sell no rocks
I'm the nigga that was out at midnight to drop off a block
In a tinted out Maxima, they low-key and quick
Snowin out the do' with a glock and a trunk full of bricks
I make the track BOOM BOOM without even touchin it
As for my black {?} I'm just supplyin it
I went to Key West and picked it up, back in Memphis broke it up
Call my nigga in, get our Crist', then we split it up
[Chorus]
[Verse Three]
His dope sales are up, a nigga feelin bellish
His pockets swellin cause e'rything he's sellin
The heat is on the street, my niggaz gettin jealous
The chopper's on the seat to cut you up like relish
The hood ain't changed, got these niggaz still tellin
To lock this nigga up a two-time felon
This boy ain't bullshittin he'll kick in doors and kill 'em
And hide them bodies good that you cain't even smell 'em
He niggarish and ignorant so FUCK who in your crib
This gangster life he livin it so fuck your wife and kids~!
These janky niggaz on the town I hope they know the biz
To all you federal tattletales, swap out where you live
[Chorus]
[Outro - dialogue]
You know the worst part about sellin dope is 80% of black people in jail
because of drugs, domestic violence and murder
So you should think about that
Get your life together my nigga
I make the trap - BOOM BOOM [4X]
I got soft, I got hard, I got pills, I got balls [2X]
[Project Pat]
Rocks under my balls, pistol in my drawers
A bird of blow on the table break quarters and halves off
For those who comin through this ain't Casino but I'm your dealer
Tony Montana, chill like Al Pacino in "Scarface" nigga
The jack boys talk a lot of noise but on the realla
Got killers posted up, e'ry Goldfinger's a trigger
Her-on is so intense, the syrup goin by the ounce
Put the money in my hands, cop your goods, and then you bounce
[Verse Two]
See I ain't the nigga that was up at five o'clock to sell no rocks
I'm the nigga that was out at midnight to drop off a block
In a tinted out Maxima, they low-key and quick
Snowin out the do' with a glock and a trunk full of bricks
I make the track BOOM BOOM without even touchin it
As for my black {?} I'm just supplyin it
I went to Key West and picked it up, back in Memphis broke it up
Call my nigga in, get our Crist', then we split it up
[Chorus]
[Verse Three]
His dope sales are up, a nigga feelin bellish
His pockets swellin cause e'rything he's sellin
The heat is on the street, my niggaz gettin jealous
The chopper's on the seat to cut you up like relish
The hood ain't changed, got these niggaz still tellin
To lock this nigga up a two-time felon
This boy ain't bullshittin he'll kick in doors and kill 'em
And hide them bodies good that you cain't even smell 'em
He niggarish and ignorant so FUCK who in your crib
This gangster life he livin it so fuck your wife and kids~!
These janky niggaz on the town I hope they know the biz
To all you federal tattletales, swap out where you live
[Chorus]
[Outro - dialogue]
You know the worst part about sellin dope is 80% of black people in jail
because of drugs, domestic violence and murder
So you should think about that
Get your life together my nigga
Credits
Writer(s): Patrick Houston, Jordan Houston, Paul D. Beauregard, Paul Duane Beauregard
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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